


Let Us Make Us A Name

by marmota_b



Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Introspection, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:55:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24892756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmota_b/pseuds/marmota_b
Summary: "Marcus was not unobservant; he could see the surreptitious gazes fixed upon his scars.But he wore his scars with pride."After the journey North, Marcus reflects on pride.(I'm a primarily Gen writer. If you want to squint the Marcus/Esca way, feel free to do so but I'm not going to write it.)
Relationships: Marcus Flavius Aquila & Esca Mac Cunoval
Comments: 10
Kudos: 16





	Let Us Make Us A Name

**Author's Note:**

> I saw this film... four days ago? and became rather obsessed because goodness gracious there are so few films these days that are so unambiguously adventurous yet so unambiguously character-based, and not filled with many unnecessary frills, like this one is.
> 
> I don't think it will manifest in much more fanfiction than this little piece, but I really had to get it out of my system _somehow _, and fanfiction is my go-to method.__

Marcus was not unobservant; he could see the surreptitious gazes fixed upon his scars.

But he wore his scars with pride.

* * *

It had been a long time since he had been able to feel pride unmixed with shame.

Back in the sunny days of his childhood – strange how his memories of that time were always sunny, even though there must have been overcast days even then – back when he had looked up to his father and what he had stood for, without knowing all that it entailed.

It came crashing down around him, never to return to the unblemished, untouched state of his early days. How he had yearned for that – how he had burned to rebuild the certainty of his childhood with his own actions, and how futile that attempt had been. It would never be the same; it could never be the same. _He_ could never be the same, for grown men are not children.

His lot was to never again feel undiluted pride, and he had finally come to peace with that. But he had had to go through much to gain that acceptance, and he had had to change - for had he not changed, he may have gone on trying to convince himself his ends had been achieved, and forever wonder at the shame still present.

His exemplary military service and his first command, marked with the continued shame of his name.

His military commendation, mixed with the shame of his lamed leg and discharge, and his father's history still hanging over him.

His own military history, reduced to a scar under his chin as his head was forced back by rough hands: the same scar that had marked Guern as a deserter, now marking him as a despised aggressor gleefully brought to his knees.

The victory in the river battle, the successful final defense of the Eagle, forever marred with the grief of many lives lost, and never, never purely his.

Even as he had walked down to the Legate’s desk with the Eagle in his hands, he had held his head high just as much for the sake of Esca at his side as for his own and his father’s – far more so for Esca, he thought now, for the Eagle spoke for itself but Esca had still needed his certainty.

His name written down next to Esca’s: Marcus Flavius Aquila and Marcus Flavius Esca. Esca’s new Roman name mirroring his, Esca’s frown at that mirroring his – this was not what either of them truly wanted, but it was what had to be. There was no room in the Roman law and custom, so precise and yet so imperfect, for even a fraction of the entire breadth and depth of Marcus' debt to Esca. Their one consolation in this bond of custom was this: if a great share in their sucessful quest had been Esca's, so did he now share in the newly honoured name. Esca laughed at that, and said he could live with that, and if Esca could offer his still rare laughter to the notion of living with it, Marcus certainly also could live with it.

The past could not be erased completely, could not be cast aside; its shame would always be present. He could, however, stop holding up unsupported pride, and wallowing in shame, and strive to simply be a better man from now on.

Pride could never again be unmixed with humility; pride without humility was ignorance.

* * *

He was not unobservant; he saw the gazes surreptitiously fixed on the streaks of scar tissue encircling his wrists, more evident after the summer sun had failed to colour them the same as the surrounding skin.

But these days, he wore his scars with pride.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a classicist, and the history of Rome in its general broadness never held that much appeal to me for me to carry historical details in my memory. So this is indebted to the other writers in this fandom whose stories including notes (like the circumstances of freeing slaves in ancient Rome) I devoured in the past couple of days. All factual mistakes are mine, feel free to correct. I'm by now adult enough to admit there is a lot more in Roman history worth exploring, but I did not want to overcomplicate this little piece.
> 
> And therefore I naturally reverted to what I do know, which in this case (the title) happened to be Genesis, as relates also to, let's say, post-colonialism, because once upon a time I wrote a literature essay along those lines...  
> ... and the fact there are two words for pride in Czech, compared to English, which makes the distinction between conceited haughty pride and honourable pride a bit easier...  
> ... it kind of packed a lot of older as well as more recent thoughts into a new piece, which was the main reason the thing that crystallised out of it seemed a thing worth posting very raw like this.


End file.
